The Greatest Texas Football Player Ever? (Part 1 - Oct 1, 2023)

by Scott Sosebee

I had an academic mentor tell me one time that if I ever wanted to start a fight, then just stand in the middle of a bunch of Texas historians and yell, “Is Texas a southern or a western state,” then stand aside and watch the fists fly (Dr. Don Walker may or may not have been being polemic). I think the same type of principle applies if one was to ask any group of Texas football fans, “Who is the greatest Texas football player of all-time?” The responses would be varied, and the defenses for each would be heated. Earl Campbell would certainly be mentioned, and so would Eric Dickerson. On the other side of the ball, Joe Greene is certainly one to consider, as is Mike Singletary, Von Miller, or Michael Strahan. One probably couldn’t go wrong with at least thinking about Drew Brees or even Patrick Mahomes, even though his career is still ongoing. But, a name that often does not come up in discussions in the twenty-first century—likely due to our presentist bias and the huge skewing of football statistics in the last two decades—is Sammy Baugh, or Sam, as he always would have preferred to be called (he once said that some sportswriter hung “Sammy” on him and it stuck). Sam Baugh, I will be bold enough to say, may have been the greatest all-around football player who ever played the game. I had the pleasure of spending a little time with Baugh decades ago for a research project I did, and let me tell you, he was one of the most unique individuals I have ever met.

Samuel Adrian Baugh was born on a hard-scabble farm just outside Temple in March 1914. Baugh’s father, J.V. tried to make a living with a few dairy cows and subsistence crops, but in early twentieth-century Texas that was hardly possible. That led J.V. to take a job with the Santa Fe Railroad, which allowed the family of five to move into Temple. Life was still difficult for the Baugh family, which led Sam’s mother, Katherine, to take in sewing to help make ends meet. An escape for Sam from the difficult life was sports, and the tall, lanky youngster excelled in football, basketball, and—particularly—baseball, where his powerful arm made him a star third baseman who regularly played with older kids and, later, even men. In fact, Sam had such an even, sidearm throwing motion that he got the nickname of “Slingin’ Sam.” He entered Temple high and was first made an end—tall players were often just placed there by coaches—but his coach decided to shift him to the tailback position in the wing-T, which is somewhat analogous to the present quarterback position.

Sam’s life changed in late 1929 when J.V. lost his job with the railroad. That led him to move the family, in 1930, to the small West Texas town of Sweetwater. Sam then joined the football team at Sweetwater High and their starting tailback led them to the state playoffs two years in a row. Baugh had not given much thought about what he might do after high school; his prowess as a baseball player led him to hope he might catch on with maybe a semi-pro team and then, perhaps, find a place in a Major League team’s farm league organization. What he had never really thought about was playing college football. That changed when he met a young TCU coach named Dutch Meyer at a baseball game in the spring of 1933.

At that time, Meyer was the coach of the Horned Frog baseball and basketball teams as well as an assistant football coach. Meyer watched Baugh play in a semi-pro baseball game that spring and felt sure that he had found a third baseman for his team. Baugh asked him if he could try out for the football team as well, and Meyer told him that he would talk it over with Head Football Coach Francis Schmidt and see if he could make that happen. Baugh would turn down an offer from legendary University of Texas baseball coach Billy Disch because the Longhorn coach would have refused to let him play football. So, Sam Baugh opted to become a Horned Frog.

When Baugh showed up on the TCU campus, Coach Schmidt did not know where to play the talented freshman. Meyer, of course, was primarily concerned with making sure he could play baseball, and Schmidt did not see much use for him in his rugged single-wing offense that would have asked the lanky Baugh to run with the ball. Schmidt knew he was the best punter he had ever seen and thought he would keep him around to do that, but then he saw him throw the ball one day when he was messing around before practice. Neither Meyer nor Schmidt had ever seen anyone with such an arm, so they made him the lead tailback in the wing and decided they would become a passing offense. Freshmen were not eligible for the varsity in those days, so Baugh would not debut until the 1934 season. But, a different man would become the Frog’s head man that same year—Dutch Meyer.

Meyer knew that he wanted Sam Baugh to be his QB in a new offense, something he called the Triple Wing and the Spread. They would become one of the first teams to throw the ball on occasions more often than a desperation heave on third down or at the end of the game. With Baugh as the triggerman, Meyer’s TCU squad would go a surprising 8-4 that first year. Baugh learned how to really play the game of football from Dutch Meyer, and both coach and quarterback looked forward to 1935 being a special season. Baugh was junior at TCU in 1935, and the team unleashed a passing attack that no one had ever seen in the college game. Coaches, players, and sportswriters were in awe at the strength and accuracy in Baugh’s arm, and the Frogs went undefeated in their first nine games. That set up a showdown with their cross-city rival SMU, a team that was also undefeated. The game would not only decide who won the Southwest Conference, but the winner would also go to the Rose Bowl. Baugh was brilliant, but a late SMU touchdown gave the Ponies a 20-14 win. TCU would go on to defeat LSU in the Sugar Bowl, and Baugh was named an All-American.

TCU’s 1936 team was not as strong as the 1935 version and would finish the season at 9-2-2. Baugh, however, had an even better season. The offense was more dependent than ever on Baugh as a passer, and the senior set SWC records for yards and passes completed. Their record was good enough to allow the Horned Frogs to be invited to the inaugural Cotton Bowl in Dallas. Again, Baugh was brilliant, and the Horned Frogs beat Marquette 16-6. Once again, Baugh was named first-team All-American. His college career was over, but his football career was not—Sam Baugh was about to revolutionize the National Football League.

Next week: Baugh takes the NFL by storm

The East Texas Historical Association provides this column as a public service. Scott Sosebee is a Professor of History at Stephen F. Austin State University and the Executive Director of the Association. He can be contacted at sosebeem@sfasu.edu; www.easttexashistorical.org.